


Get Out Of The Kitchen

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Blogging, Chefs, F/M, Flirting, Food, M/M, Male Slash, Restaurants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron’s a chef working in the Thrace restaurant. Nasir’s an anonymous food blogger that Agron follows religiously and has a monster crush on. One night, Nasir walks into Thrace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Out Of The Kitchen

 

 

It was right in the middle of a normal balls-to-the-walls busy night when Naevia stuck her head into the kitchen and announced that Nasir had arrived. Amongst the usual rabble of kitchen noise and chaos, Duro had been ribbing Donar, singing AC/DC obnoxiously falsetto at him, while Lugo shouted for some quiet as he worked his usual incomprehensible magic on the desserts. How did a guy with fingers like that create such delicate pastry masterpieces? The noise level was high, Agron raising his voice in order to be heard as he kept the circus moving, getting dishes out fast and complete.

 

Naevia's proclamation brought an unheard silence.

 

It'd been months since she had casually dropped into conversation that she knew Nasir Attasi from college and that they were still close friends. Nasir Attasi – the restaurant blogger who'd come to wield as much influence as the most respected newspaper critics, whose writing style was biting and mischievous and fucking packed with culinary knowledge. He was one of the few critics that Agron read regularly. Okay, he did more than read, but what he commented on in the privacy of his apartment was his own business. And Naevia knew Nasir.

 

She'd always refused to use thar friendship to get Nasir into the restaurant for a review. Agron had tried hard to convince her otherwise. Because Nasir’s blog had a sizeable influence on the public and he actually knew what he was blogging about, and wrote about food with a humour and love that Agron really liked. Duro had claimed that Agron more than liked Nasir's style. Agron had put Duro on dishwashing duty.

 

There was no photograph of Nasir on his blog. He clearly wanted anonymity, so chefs never knew that he'd been in their restaurant until they read a review of it on his blog. So Agron couldn't be in love with the guy. Right?

 

Duro was smirking from the burners. In fact, most of the staff were watching him with way too much glee. Fuck privacy in a kitchen. Everybody had an opinion on your personal life.

 

Agron growled at them. Only a few jumped back to work.

 

Naevia lingered at the door, a vision in her neat hostess uniform. Somehow, she seemed to glow amid the pressure of running the front of house. Her faux-casual expression softened an inch as she took in Agron's tense body language. She slid far enough into the kitchen to rest a hand gently on his arm. That kind of affectionate gesture from any of the other female staff would have gotten catcalls – as well as yells to get the fuck out of the kitchen – but since Naevia was married to Crixus, the other chef of the restaurant, who took an extremely dim view of anybody even looking at Naevia wrong, nobody said a word.

 

“It's just Nasir. Just another customer,” she said quietly.

 

Agron snorted. Yeah, just another customer. Just somebody that Agron followed religiously online and left comments for every day. Just somebody that Agron flirted with in said comments and who possibly flirted back too. It could be read that way.

 

Duro was still watching him. He made an obscene gesture. His view on if Nasir was actually flirting with Agron had always been very clear. He thought his brother was being spectacularly slow.

 

Agron snapped out of his fugue. “Okay, nothing special or fancy. Just what he orders.”

 

Naevia nodded. It was what Nasir would appreciate. Agron's heart felt like it was going to bust out of his chest. At least half the kitchen was still smirking at him. Fuck, where was the respect? Duro would probably say it was stuffed down the back of one of the freezers, along with Agron's dignity.

 

So he might have the hots for Nasir's brain. What the fuck was wrong with that?

 

Agron valiantly tucked away all thoughts of Nasir and slapped Duro round the back of the head as he passed his younger brother.

 

“Hey, if you can’t take the heat, _bruder_ …”

 

“I can fire you.”

 

“But then you’d have to tell _Mutter_.”

 

Agron concentrated on that – swapping quips with Duro, making sure that Lugo didn’t take up too much room as he worked, ducking the cleavers that Donar always used. If he concentrated on all of that, then he wouldn’t be distracted by anything else. That was the theory anyway. Agron adjusted the white bandana that held his dreadlocks back and julienned another onion. It was going fine. No complaints so far. They rocked and Nasir would see that. He’d taste the sweat and the blood that had gone into the restaurant – not literally, of course, unless something had gone tits up at the sauce station.

 

He’d taste how Spartacus and Sura had built Thrace from the ground up, how they’d fought for the property and had decided to put Agron and Crixus in the same kitchen, despite how vicious and public their feud was. They okayed the crazy people their chefs wanted in the kitchen and the mountain of ingredients and expensive equipment. They poured in money and didn’t try to grab creative control. They were great bosses and the kitchen worked surprisingly well, as long as Agron and Crixus weren’t in it at the same time. Nasir would taste that hard work and passion. He had to. Agron wanted him to.

 

The news from the dining room, from Chadara as she collected plates, was that Nasir was enjoying his food. He was noting a few things down on his phone but he wasn’t being obvious about it. He looked like just another diner. Agron narrowly avoiding cutting his knuckles as Chadara breathlessly relayed the news. He was concentrating, he was completely concentrating on the work in front of him.

 

He was, right up until Naevia appeared at the door again and beckoned him out with the heart-stopping words. “Diner wants to compliment the chef.”

 

Thrace didn’t do chef appearances, unless it was for somebody extremely important that they needed to impress. Naevia had that look in her eyes that clearly said it was worth Agron's while. Agron’s heart dropped to his stomach. There was only one person that Naevia would drag him out of the kitchen to meet tonight.

 

“Does he really…?”

 

Naevia smiled the smile that made everything about her brighten and tugged at his arm. “Neither of us are taking no for an answer.”

 

Agron swallowed. Okay. The cat-calling from the kitchen was loud, Duro was definitely the loudest. Agron quickly scrubbed his hands clean and made sure that his spot on the line was covered. His whites were filthy but there was nothing he could do about that, it came with the territory. Nasir wouldn’t expect anything else, right? He’d always been loud about his love for authenticity. Agron wet his dry mouth.

 

He’d had so many conversations with Nasir in his head, sparked by the banter that they'd shared online; it felt surreal to now be striding out to actually meet the guy face to face. Agron checked Nasir’s blog ‘Bites’ every day. It was always a challenging read, but it never made Agron want to bare his teeth like some food blogs did. It was impressive.

 

Naevia led the way through the busy dining room to a small quiet table occupied by only one person. For a moment, all Agron could see was shadows and out-of-focus lines. Then he blinked and noticed that Nasir was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt open enough to reveal skin and several necklaces. His hair was long and dark and curled at the edges and his face was beautiful and fine-boned. And Agron was staring.

 

He smiled awkwardly, feeling incredibly oafish and scruffy in comparison to the lithe seated figure. But Nasir smiled and the expression was as dirty as Agron's whites. Wow, okay.

 

“Chef, thank you for the very enjoyable meal.”

 

He had an accent that caused Agron to dip forward a little, wanting to hear more. Nasir's smile only increased. Agron cleared his throat.

 

“Thank you.”

 

It was Nasir's turn to lean forward now. “I'd like to talk more about it with you.”

 

Nasir's smile was more of a smirk now and it glinted with knowledge of Agron that he must have gotten from Naevia. And Nasir was still interested in spending time with him? Agron smirked back. Nasir wasn’t the only one here interested in playing 'getting to know you.' This could be awesome. It could be like frequent dreams that Agron had.

 

“Sure, can you wait?”

 

“Love to.”

 

Agron grinned and let his eyes deliberately look Nasir up and down. Duro would say that Agron had eye-fucked the guy. Duro spent too much time watching trashy late-night TV. It looked like Agron's evening was definitely getting an upgrade But he had a kitchen to run first. He nodded at Nasir and headed quickly back into the chaos before he tripped over his tongue in front of the blogger.

 

“So, _bruder_ , does he want you for dessert?” Duro called as soon as Agron entered.

 

Agron arched an eyebrow but couldn't wipe the dirty grin off his face. Duro howled and beat his chest, extending a fist for Agron to bump, which Agron did. As the others started adding jeers, Agron whistled and raised his hands.

 

“Fucking asses in gear. There's a deuce still waiting for their entrée.”

 

The jeers came thick and fast, but the food got done in equally rapid time so Agron didn't have to knock any heads together. Lugo's desserts continued to be highly-praised works of pastry art. Donar still did the fastest chopping in the kitchen and Duro managed to get under everybody's skin and twice narrowly avoided being given a black eye. Situation normal. Agron tried to keep himself settled, but his skin thrummed with a thrill, of the chase? Of finally setting eyes on Nasir? Whatever it was, it was a thrill. It had been electric, the two of them looking at each other and exchanging smirks. What would it be like outside of the restaurant?

 

The kitchen finally shut hours later. Agron peeled off his whites and said goodnight to the kitchen staff before he headed into the dining room. Nasir was sat at the bar, talking to Saxa. Saxa ran the bar militantly and wasn’t easily impressed, but from their conversation it seemed that she and Nasir had people in common. Agron drank in the sight; Nasir’s jacket was folded across his knees, he was laughing as he finished a beer, his skin and eyes glowing in the dim light. He looked enticing, like something out of a wet dream. And he probably knew it.

 

God, why hadn't Naevia introduced them to each other before?

 

Nasir turned at the sound of Agron's footsteps and flashed that killer smile again. He paid Saxa and got to his feet. He was short and spare, but carried himself with confidence and fluidity. Agron couldn't take his eyes off him, Nasir seemed keen on keeping Agron in his sightlines too. Agron's heart thumped hard. This really was a dream, wasn't it? Any second now he was going to wake up to find Duro standing over him with a video camera.

 

“Not going to show me the kitchen?”

 

Agron grimaced. At this time of night, he knew some of what went on back there. He and Crixus had rooted people out before, the general policy being don't fuck on the ingredients and if you break anything, you paid for it. Nasir laughed and didn't seem all that disappointed, thank God.

 

He stuck close as Agron led the way out – giving the nod to Saxa for the lock-up and seeing to the night porter. He knew a good place to take Nasir. If Nasir liked authenticity so much, he'd definitely like this place.

 

“You knew Naevia in college, right?” Agron broke the silence as they walked.

 

“Three years strong. We roomed together before she met Crixus.”

 

“Oh, the blackmail material you must have...”

 

Nasir laughed and adopted a sly expression. “If the price is right...”

 

Agron grinned at him, heat flooding his body. Music muffled by brickwork could be heard as they neared their destination. The door was all faded paintwork, with only one bouncer stationed beside it stretching the limits of his suit. He nodded Agron and Nasir in and Agron led the way past the door and down a staircase, shucking off his jacket as he went. Nasir looked amused.

 

“A secret club?”

 

Agron laughed. “No password necessary”

 

The bar wasn't densely populated and those who were there were almost all part of the industry. There was a jukebox and a pool table and a lot of cursing and laughter. Agron ordered a couple of beers and signalled for the usual bar snacks. Nasir was watching him and Agron noticed as Nasir leaned forward to accept his beer that he had a tattoo on his neck. There were curving glyphs and some kind of animal, but the low lighting made it impossible for him to identify more without pushing right into Nasir's personal space. Oh, he was all for that happening, just somewhere more private.

 

“I've been to places like this before,” Nasir commented, glancing around.

 

Agron nodded, remembering some of Nasir's blog entries. The guy didn't just review restaurants; he went to the places that chefs hung out after hours, to where they bought their ingredients, to street carts and food festivals. He was as obsessed with food as any trained chef was. It made Agron smile to think about. It made him want to stroke Nasir's skin; it made him want to taste it. Would he find salt grains between Nasir’s fingers? And heat under his tongue?

 

Nasir grinned. “I hear you visit my blog.”

 

Agron groaned. Because of course Nasir knew. “Naevia?”

 

“Mmmm. I've been trying to work out what your handle is.”

 

It was Agron's turn to grin. His handle was WantABite for very good reason. Nasir had initially responded to that username with a lot of amusement – _it’s funny until I have to take out a restraining order_ – but he always replied to Agron’s comments. Gradually their exchanges had become more heated, as Agron had gotten hooked on Nasir’s clever words and Nasir had seemed to respond in the same way to Agron’s efforts. Unsaid things scorched between the lines. But flirting online was one thing, following through in person was definitely another. Agron licked his lips and felt the press of Nasir's knee against his.

 

“I lurk,” he replied at last with a meaningful flick of his eyebrows.

 

Nasir's laugh was rich. He raised his beer and Agron clinked his bottle against Nasir's. The beer tasted hoppy and reminded Agron of the brands his family had loved back home in Germany. True beer, his father had always said, the real stuff. Agron had vividly agreed after tasting his first American beer. Nasir had done a blogpost about beers and the microbreweries that were gaining popularity, particularly over the internet.

 

As he began draining his second bottle, Nasir spoke up. “I have a confession to make.”

 

Oh? Agron inched closer and Nasir tipped his head towards him, his grin knowing. They were communicating silently even now, face to face. “I looked you up, on Thrace's website, when Naevia first talked about working there.”

 

Agron smirked. He had it on good authority that that photo of him was fuckably good.

 

“Interesting...”

 

Nasir's lips were wet with beer. “Very.”

 

He looked at Agron like he wanted to devour him. Agron's heartbeat actually sounded louder in his ears than the Kinks song that was currently pounding out of the jukebox. He felt compelled to lean closer, so close that Nasir's breath was warm on his face. Nasir looked like he was going to say something that might actually light a match here.

 

“Do you really think that the pheasant dish is the best thing on Vesper's menu?”

 

Agron’s mouth dropped open, then he convulsed with amazed laughter. He’d left a comment to that effect on Nasir’s blog entry about Vesper’s the other night. The little bastard had known who he was all along.

 

“Naevia didn’t tell me.” Nasir cupped Agron’s wrist, his thumb stroking the tattoo there. “This did.”

 

Of course. The tattoo was of a doodle that Agron’s Mum had used to scrawl everywhere, on receipts, on bills, in cookbooks. On Nasir's blog, Agron’s user picture was of his own arm, a wicked-sharp kitchen knife clenched in his fist. The tattoo was visible, and it was probably noticeable in his Thrace website photo too. Nasir had known who he was, had known that Agron had been the one spouting innuendos at him for months now, and he’d still wanted to hang out after hours. Maybe it hadn’t all been just online banter.

 

“So, horrified or glad?”

 

Nasir smiled slowly and licked a droplet of beer off his forefinger. The action was feline and deliberate. It made Agron’s throat constrict.

 

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

 

Their knees bumped together and neither could tear their gazes away from the other. Agron was cataloguing all the different ways that he and Nasir could make use of his empty flat. The bathtub was big enough for a lot of fun.

 

Nasir still hadn’t let go of Agron’s wrist. Agron lifted Nasir’s hand to his own lips and licked away the remains of the beer’s condensation. Nasir’s skin tasted salty.

 

His grin burned like the best kind of alcohol.

 

_-the end_


End file.
